


Part One: Gathering Storm

by providing_leverage



Series: SSA Sam Singer [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, M/M, for both shows, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providing_leverage/pseuds/providing_leverage
Summary: The BAU has a problem. With Stephen Walker mentally and physically unfit for work after the car crash that nearly killed him, they're down an agent. From a stack of potential candidates, Prentiss selects a former lawyer who comes from the Counter Terrorism Taskforce with the highest of compliments from everyone who's ever worked with him.Sam Singer has a secret. Actually, he has several, starting with the fact that Singer isn't his real last name and ending with the fact that his new team would toss him in jail if they knew half of what he keeps hidden.He may have officially left the Hunting life behind, but even a Winchester can't out run fate forever. Eventually his two worlds will collide, the only question is when and how many people he loses in the process.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & The BAU, Sam Winchester/Gabriel
Series: SSA Sam Singer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907932
Comments: 33
Kudos: 346





	Part One: Gathering Storm

**Author's Note:**

> First off, Stephen didn't die. He's just in a hospital,then at home, recuperating with his family like he deserves. This takes place during s13 of Criminal Minds and in 2017 for the most part.  
> The timeline of Supernatural, as you will see, is very different so it doesn't take place during any season.

Penelope wasn’t good with change. This was a well known and documented fact, and the reason JJ was keeping an eye on her today.

Then again, given the circumstances, Penelope wasn’t the only nervous one. And there had been quite a lot of change recently to the BAU’s roster. Hotch and Morgan leaving, Luke then Stephen joining, Reid being gone and then all of them being forced to take time off.

But now they were all back, with the exception of Stephen who’s injuries in the car accident were bad enough that he’d be out a few months more, best case scenario. In the meantime, that meant Emily had gotten them a new agent.

“I can't believe she won’t even give me a name.” Penelope pouts, “How can I stalk him and send him through my background checks if I don’t have a name.”

JJ smiles and sets down the coffees and donuts she’d picked up on her way in as a welcome back to all of them. “I think that might be the point.”

“I do it out of love! I have to make sure this new person isn’t a bad fit for our team. And our family.”

JJ manages to distract her friend long enough for the rest of the team to arrive, minus Emily who’d texted to say she was running a bit behind. They sit around the table and share stories of what they did with their forced vacations and try not to look at the remote on the table. It would be so easy to turn on the TV and find the details of the newest member of the BAU. 

But Emily wanted to tell them herself and they would respect her wishes.

JJ is in the middle of the third story about her kids and their neighbors new cat and the rest of the team is trying to restrain their laughter when Emily rushes in.

“Sorry I’m late, let’s get started.” She says. “I know you’re all eager to get back in the field.”

Rossi raises his coffee “ _And_ meet our newest teammate. I hope you chose well, Prentiss.”

Emily laughs. “Right. He’s eager to meet you too.” She pulls from her bag a file, which is slid over to Reid. “The info is on your tablets.”

Penelope practically dives for hers, while the rest of them open theirs much more calmly.

The picture in the very first slide is...well, JJ is married and in love not blind. Long hair has never really been her thing but this guy is _attractive._

Penelope agrees, judging from the whispered _“Hot damn.”_ then the louder “Hot damn, where has he been all my life?”

“Kansas, mostly.” Reid says, because of course he’s already read the paper file Emily had given him. “And Harvard, for law. Two years as a lawyer, then joined the FBI. Spent time as a field agent based in Kansas City and then the Fugitive Task Force before applying to the BAU.”

Luke nods, looking up from his tablet. “I know him. We worked a few cases together. Some of the best hunting instincts I’ve seen in a person, like he’s been doing this forever. Real easy to get along with too.”

“Not that his opinion means much to me,” Penelope lies through her teeth, “But that’s good, right? He’s not some glory seeker using the BAU’s reputation to advance his career?”

“He’s a great person.” Emily confirms “I like him a lot, as an agent and a person, and I think you guys will too.”

“Well then, when can we meet this-” Tara checks her tablet for a name, “Samuel Singer?”

“Right now, he’s in my office. And make the introductions quick because we have a case.” 

**Six months later:**

Sometimes Sam wishes he’d never entered the FBI, much less the BAU.

All his life Sam had craved a normal life but when he had it, he’d discovered he was painfully bad at it. Having a home and steady income was nice but everything he did felt _empty._ As much as he wanted out of the Hunting life, he wasn’t cut out for being a civilian. 

That was why he loved being in the FBI so much, and since joining the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Sam had never been happier. He’d found his calling.

The only downside was his team members. Great people but they could read him nearly as well as Dean. That was a problem when he wanted to hide something. Like now, for instance.

“Don’t you guys have something else to be doing? Saving lives, maybe?” He says loudly, ducking his head in hopes his hair will help hide the faint blush on his cheeks.

Sam wished he hadn’t taken Luke up on his offer to go running with him and Roxy in that park they liked. It had taken him longer than expected to get back to his apartment and put him behind schedule. 

If he’d taken his normal morning jog route he would have gotten here before anyone had noticed.

But he hadn’t and now the entire team except for Prentiss are standing around his desk smiling. Smiling because there’s a bundle of roses and a note on his desk reading _I had a good time this weekend, we should do it again soon_ with a smiley face and a chocolate Kiss.

“No case, not yet.” Garcia, who used to be his favorite, says. She’s got the biggest smile of them all. “I’d ask how your weekend went but that’s pretty clear.”

“Some of us have no love life and have to live vicariously through others.” Tara says.

Grabbing the roses and note, Sam pulls open the bottom drawer of his desk. Luckily there’s nothing except some loose papers and a medical kit in there so it’s not too much of a struggle to shove them in there. “It’s nothing.”

“You know, the number of roses often has a special meaning.” Reid observes. “I believe twenty four means something like ‘I think of you 24/7’ “

“That doesn't sound like ‘nothing’ to me.” Rossi agrees.

“I speak from personal experience, there’s no hiding from these guys. I thought Will and I were hiding it pretty good but they knew from the beginning.” JJ says. 

“This isn’t like that.” Sam insists and he didn't have to be a profiler to tell his teammates didn’t believe him for a second. “Really, it’s just a joke. There was nothing remotely romantic about what we did together.”

Tara raises an eyebrow “Do they know that?”

“It’s far more common that men send flowers than women.” Reid says. “That combined with the messy handwriting points towards male, not female.”

In a fortunate turn of events that would have most people thanking God, Penelope’s phone dings before they can really begin to speculate. 

“We have a case.” She announces “But don’t think you’ve gotten out of anything Singer. We’ll be revisiting this conversation.”

She’s not wrong. The roses and who gave them to Sam continue to be a hot topic around the office. And plane, and police station in Miami, and the hotel where they stay while in Miami. Sam can’t escape it.

“You have to at least give us some details about the weekend.” Luke says on the trip back to D.C. “Throw us a bone here.”

“There was nothing romantic about the weekend,” Sam repeats. And it’s true.

He got out of Hunting when he’d run away to college at eighteen. But it was impossible to ever really be free of that life, and his work at the FBI kept him in top shape. So when Dean had needed a group of demons in Michigan taken out but couldn’t go himself, he’d called Sam who hadn’t been able to say no.

There was nothing romantic about a condemned building filled with black eyed monsters and a basement filled with tortured teen girls. Nothing romantic about the blood or the screaming or Sam being slammed against a wall hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Nothing romantic about Gabriel going full arcangel, accessing the powers he so rarely brought out to smite all the remaining demons. Nothing sweet about the way he’d held the survivors and put them into a deep healing sleep that would leave them with no memory of their captivity and no wounds.

And if afterwards in the motel room Gabriel had run his hands oh so gently over Sam’s body and Sam had felt the warmth of his powers seeping into every bit of him, healing the bruises and breaks before Sam fell asleep and slept better than he has in years....well that’s nobody’s business but his.

“You’re blushing.” Luke says, grinning. 

  
  


**___**

The investigation into Sam’s secret not boyfriend had hit a wall.

And not just any garden variety wall. A thick, multi layered one, made of brick and cement and-

“Okay, calm down Garcia.” JJ tells her, which is fair but still.

“I can’t! In the beginning it was just a joke but now I _have_ to know.”

She’d started a file on the guy, which she probably shouldn't have used one of their actual official case files for but whatever. Everything they knew took up less than two pieces of paper.

What they knew was this: the guy’s name was Gabriel (no last name. Yet.) and he had a large and complicated family including one younger brother who was best friends with Sam and his older brother.

Gabriel and Sam had met years ago and hadn't gotten along great but were decent friends now (Garcia had squealed at that. She loved a good enemies to friends to lovers). Gabriel had a serious sweet tooth and attitude problem and was a massive flirt. This was how Sam explained the gifts and notes.

_Don't even get her started on the gifts and notes._ Six over the last two months, not counting the initial roses. They showed up on Sam’s desk at random times but often overnight. Gabriel was apparently a ninja or something because no one had seen him yet. She’d interrogated everyone who was near their floor before a gift was found but no dice. He’d also not been caught on the cameras and no guest had signed in under the name Gabriel those days.

Rossi had brought up the fact that this was kind of a security concern at this point, if a random civilian had been able to get into the BAU without anyone noticing. It hadn’t occurred to Garcia to be alarmed instead of annoyed until then.

Sam, the jerk, had refused to confirm if Gabriel was actually another FBI agent or someone else with the clearance and/or training to get into the building. But it was likely that their guy wasn’t a run of the mill civilian. 

“It’s driving me crazy.” She admits, as if JJ didn’t already know that. “No one should be this good at hiding from me. From us.”

JJ doesn't voice her opinion, but she doesn't have to. She’d made her stance clear on this whole thing. Everyone was curious about their newest agent and his kinda boyfriend but JJ along with Tara and Luke had taken the stance of ‘if he doesn't want to talk about it then it’s his business’. Penelope was joined by Rossi and Prentiss on team ‘I’m nosey and want to know everything’.

Reid was the most neutral, wanting to respect the privacy of his new friend (he and Sam got on like a house on fire) but also not used to mysteries he couldn’t solve and annoyed by how Gabriel seemed to easily avoid them (not to mention how hard Sam was to read).

“Anyway, what brings you to my humble lair on this fine morning?” Garcia turns away from her screens and the hunt for the stationary Gabriel always wrote his notes to Sam on. 

“Emily sent me to get you. Time to present the new case?”

“Right! The case! It’s a weird one too, even for us.”

___

“This isn’t a new case.” Prentiss starts the meeting off with. “Not entirely. The BAU consulted on it years ago but it predates all of us except Rossi who was on sabbatical at the time, I believe.”

Sam recognizes the picture that comes up on the screen. Five men, standing together with rifles in their hands, half smiling at the camera. One dressed in the collar of a priest, the rest jeans and flannel. 

How could he not recognize it? He’d taken it. A copy was still tucked into the pages of John Winchester’s journal and Bobby’d had his framed and put on his mantle. It was probably still there, even if Bobby wasn’t.

He’s not the only one who’s seen it before. “Wait, these guys again?” Rossi- well, the best word is scowls- at the screen. “I remember, Gideon called to bounce ideas off me while working it. Both of us were stumped.”

Sam zones out as Prentiss goes over the men, their backgrounds, and their beliefs that had put the BAU on their trail in the first place.

Other than John and Bobby, there was also Pastor Jim, Caleb (he had a first name but Sam didn’t know it, no one had ever used it within his hearing range) and William Harvelle. 

Sam remembered that hunt. He and Dean hadn’t been allowed because it involved a shit load of demons and no one was expecting it to go as well as it had. All five of them had lived, even if Caleb had never been able to see out of his right eye again and Bobby had been on crutches for months.

The FBI had probably gotten a hold of the picture when they’d taken Caleb into custody that one time after he’d been caught killing what looked like a little girl but had really been a flesh eating monster of some kind. 

Escaping hadn’t really been a problem, but by the time he had the agents had already searched his car and found not only his journal but his list of contacts (in code, of course), numerous cell phones, collection of fake ID’s, and the semi-legal collection of weapons in the trunk.

The profile that the old BAU team had put together was unsurprisingly pretty accurate (the hunter’s journal detailing Caleb’s experiences and most intimate thoughts would have made the profile easy to build) except for the part where the monsters Caleb hunted were imagined. 

“So if Caleb, Murphy, and Winchester are all confirmed dead and the two unknowns haven’t been heard from since, why is it being brought to us now?” Luke asks.

“I am so not happy you had to ask. This.” Garcia clicks the button that brings up the next picture, “is Claire Novak. She was arrested two days ago after digging up a grave in the small town of Bolton, Ohio and- get this- covering the corpse inside with salt, then gasoline, and setting it on fire. A guy on a midnight walk saw the fire and called the cops.

“Her and her car, a truck not registered to her and with fake plates, were searched. Who can guess what they found?” Garcia never really looks happy during these briefings but she looks especially grim now.

Everyone does, because they all know where this is going. Reid does not guess but says with certainty, “Weapons, fake identification, and a journal detailing how she sees the world, delusions that are very similar to Caleb’s.”

“Our Boy Wonder is correct, as usual.”

All the evidence points to one logical conclusion; one or more of the men in the photo had somehow brainwashed Claire into believing the same delusions they saw. 

“The earliest entry in her journal is dated three years ago but Claire has been off the grid since shortly after her father disappeared. If she encountered Caleb so young and fresh from the trauma of her father and mother both abandoning her, it would have been all too easy to take her in and raise her to see monsters in every shadow.” JJ says . “That poor girl, she can’t be more than twenty. And that level of brainwashing- how soon can we talk to her?”

Emily shakes her head, “As soon as we locate her. Same as Caleb she escaped, but she doubled back and retrieved all of her stuff. All we have are the photos and since her journal wasn’t completely documented we only have a few pages of it.”

Since the first photo of his father and friends had popped up, Sam had been keeping up a carefully normal and neutral face to hide the _shitshitshitshit_ running on a loop in the back of his head. Now he fights the proud smile threatening to break across his face.

_You are a normal FBI agent who does not believe in monsters other than the humans you catch,_ Sam reminds himself, _you are not happy or proud that a criminal who was brainwashed into believing it’s her job to hunt ghosts has escaped custody._

Luckily no one is looking at him, but they will expect him to contribute to the conversation soon. So Sam gives himself five seconds.

Breath in, breath out. _You are Sam Singer, son of an exterminator who dragged you all over the country for his job. You have one older brother who continued the tradition. You have never seen any of the men pictured above or Claire Novak. You know only what has been told to you by Prentiss and Garcia today._

“At least your weird expertise will come in handy in this case.” JJ says, startling him from his re-centering.

“What?”

“Your expertise.” She repeats. “All that knowledge of supernatural lore and dead languages. Hey, maybe your uncle will let us borrow some of his book collection. Might be useful as background to help build the profile.”

Right, that was the lie he’d come up with to explain his knowledge of nature spirits and the history of human sacrifice during his third week at the BAU. “Yeah, yeah maybe.” _Except most definitely not._

This wasn’t going to be fun.

___

There was something bothering Sam, he could tell. Luke watched from his seat across the plane as his teammate gazed out the window with a blank expression, lost in thought and the music in his earbuds.

Luke taps his fingers on the table and makes a decision. It wasn’t really his business but Sam was a teammate and friend and he wanted to help. 

But first he hits the drink cart and grabs a glass of whatever it was Rossi always kept the plane stocked with. Something fancy and expensive and probably against some rule or another.

“You did good today, you know.” He opens with, taking the seat across from Sam and setting the drinks down. “Saved that kids’ life.” 

Sam looks up and pulls one earbud out, “Hm? Oh yeah, it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing to him or his parents. Your quick thinking saved his life. If you hadn’t jumped in he’d be dead.” Luke leans forward. “All things considered this case ended pretty well, which is why I know it’s not what is bothering you. Now you don’t have to tell me but I might remind you that all of us are profilers, even Garcia by association. We’re going to draw conclusions and they might even be right. But you’ll save us all a lot of speculation if you tell me now.”

The other agent laughs and pulls the other earbud loose, which means Luke has his attention. “Wow. That’s...upfront.”

“I like to save the trickery for unsubs. I’ve found that in my personal life, upfront is normally the best way to go.”

“Smart.” Sam sighs and reaches for the glass Luke had brought for him. “It’s the Hunter case that’s bothering me, that’s all.”

Sam wasn’t the only one bothered. Logically he knew this was going to be a long game. Claire Novak had completely disappeared, further evidence that she wasn’t alone. There was something deeper going on and it scared all of them but for now there was nothing they could do but brainstorm and theorize and hope a paper trial or something else popped up.

Of the three men they’d identified in the picture of what they believed to be the ringleaders of this delusion, all had been confirmed dead. Caleb and Pastor Murphy both shot in their homes (for Jim Murphy that had meant the church he operated in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma) at roughly the same time. John Winchester had met his end at the end of a knife in a warehouse that had then been set on fire in a way that was similar to his wife’s death that had sent him on his delusional spiral in the first place.

All three men’s bodies had disappeared from the coroner's office before a real autopsy could be done.

But the most disturbing detail was John’s two sons who they’d failed to track down. Both would be in their thirties by now and the few pictures of the pages of Claire's journal they had contained several mentions of a _Dean._ They confirmed that the eldest Winchester brother was a sort of mentor to her and had taught her to identify and put down ‘monsters’ like ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and a dozen other things. They referred to it as their job and went about solving their _cases_ in a way that mirrored the way the FBI talked and operated close enough that Luke got chills reading the entries.

“This case is bothering everyone, I think. But remember, we’re all here to bounce ideas off or just talk, if that’s what you need.” Luke tells Sam, meaning every word. “This isn’t the sort of thing you should bottle up, or a career you can afford to bottle things up in.”

Sam nods and takes a sip of his glass, “Alright, and thanks Alvez.”

“Of course, you can always talk to us about other things too. Like your love life.” Emily pitches in, appearing from nowhere over Luke’s shoulder. “And certain men whose names begin with ‘G’ and end with ‘abriel’ “

The look Sam gives her has them all laughing.

___

Sam’s apartment in DC is not the greatest place, but it’s better than his college dorms or the countless motel rooms across the continental United States that he was raised in. 

But what it lacked in good insulation, neighbors with a reasonable schedule, and view of anything but a dirty alleyway, it made up for in the multiple secret compartments and the ladder hidden behind the mirror in the master bedroom that lead to a small bunker.

When Henry Winchester had burst from the closet of the abandoned house Dean had set up shop in, a Knight of Hell on his heels and the key to the biggest collection of supernatural knowledge ever assembled, things had changed. 

Crowley’s hold on the throne of Hell was compromised and there was still an ongoing hunt for Abbadon who’s leadership and strategy skills were giving them a bit of trouble, Dean now had both a permanent home for the first time since he was four and a central base of operations.

And Sam got a tiny leaking apartment that was warded against basically everything and had his own little secret fallout shelter equipped for five people to live in relative comfort for three months. And despite being underground, it got fairly decent cell signal.

It’s to his closet he goes first after arriving home, tossing his bag on his bed and finding the key on his keyring that unlocks every Men of Letters property in the world (which had proved both convenient and a large security risk). The keyhole is hidden in the side, but Sam’s done this enough times he doesn't even need to turn on the light. With a soft _click_ the mirror swings open.

Since his apartment is on the first floor, Sam only has to go down twenty feet of ladder before he reaches the minibunker. Here he takes a seat at the table in the first room, the kitchen and mess hall. Other than the bathroom, it’s the only area he regularly uses. The medical center and two bedrooms are only touched when he has visitors.

Dialing his brother, Sam looks around the minibunker and resigns himself to spending the weekend dusting the place. Unless he got lucky and was called into work.

Dean answers on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

It’s easy to fall into conversation with his older brother and forget how tired he is. They swap case stories, Dean laughing at his fear of clowns and the fact that Sam’s fear is logical now that he’s actually dealt with a killer clown. Sam listening and advising about the traveling group of vampires ripping their way through the midwest that Dean and Cas always seem to be one step behind.

“If I’ve still got nothing on them by next week I’ll call Rowena.” Dean says unhappily. He’s never gotten along with the witch as well as Sam does. “See if she can work her mojo and get me a location.”

“You know, I’ve got some vacation days stored up,” Sam offers. “Send Cas to get me and I’ll take a look. Drop by the bunker and see everyone while I’m free too. It’s been too long.”

“That’s true, and if you don’t come visit soon Charlie will be breaking down your door, but you should use your vacation time for actual vacations. Tell you what, after I wrap this I’ll drive to D.C and we’ll roadtrip it down to Nevada and do Vegas Week like the good old days when everything was simpler.” 

“No cases, no talk of dead people, and no angels?” Sam asks. “Just two brothers and the open road?”

“Cell phones on vibrate.” Dean confirms, “I’ll see you then Sammy.”

“Bye Dean.”

___

JJ is calmly sipping her morning coffee and finishing up her report on the last case they’d worked when Hurricane Garcia blows in.

Their technical analyst is grinning ear to ear and seems about to explode from excitement. Reid would say that was physically impossible, but Penelope was on her way to proving him wrong. She’s clutching a bag of caramel chocolates and one of those iced coffees from Starbucks that come in a glass bottle.

“If Sam doesn't make his move on Gabriel, I’m going to.” She announces loudly, joyfully. “I found these on my desk this morning. Along with this.”

From her sweater pocket she pulls a folded note on the same green tinted paper that always accompanied the gifts left on Sam’s desk. Luke, the closest to Penelope, takes it and reads. “ ‘I’m aware that Samsquatch is spending the next two weeks galavaning with his big brother and that he normally gives you all the sweets I leave for him. Far be it from me to cut a lady off from her sugar stash, so enjoy. PS the investigation into my identity is flattering. A dead end, but flattering nonetheless.’ ” Luke frowns, obediently handing the note off to Spencer who immediately reads it for himself and begins muttering to himself. “”He left this for you, in the batcave, which requires a code? And saw the stuff you gathered on him?”

“That is concerning.” Tara agrees. “It’s one thing to get to Sam’s desk and leave stuff for the guy. But leaving gifts for Sam’s coworkers when he’s not here and being amused at the fact that you’re investigating him is… There’s just something that’s bugging me about all of this.”

JJ has to agree. As much as she wants to trust that Sam wouldn’t be half in love with a dangerous person, she knew that love made people do crazy things. How many times had they seen it, people insisting that their loved one _couldn’t_ be their unsub, it was _impossible._

But Sam was a federal agent and a profiler. If he wasn’t concerned with Gabriel being able to get into their offices, maybe they shouldn't be.

“I’d feel a lot better about all of this if we had a last name and could run a few checks on him. Or better yet, meet him.” Spencer says, which are JJ’s feelings exactly. “But I have a feeling that’s going to have to wait.”

They all turn to follow his line of sight. Emily is standing at the railing outside her office and gesturing to Garcia. They had a case, and judging by the look on their team leader’s face, it was a bad one.

___

It had to be bad. That was the only reason Prentiss would text him less than forty eight hours into his two weeks off. Asking if he was in a place where he could video conference into the meeting. 

It’s nine o’clock in Quantico and eight o’clock in the shabby motel room they’d rented the night before. Sam’s been up for an hour, working through the stack of books he’d brought and Dean is predictably still passed out in bed. 

There’s a stack of cash on the table between their beds, because they were doing this old school and that meant Sam Singer’s FBI salary and the limitless credit cards Ash and Charlie had rigged up were stored in the glove box for emergencies only. This trip would be funded only by what they hustled and the old back up cards. 

Because of how sketchy the whole area around him is, Sam elects to simply call into the meeting, claiming that he needs his tablet to look at the pictures on (he could easily conference call in using Dean’s laptop but having his surroundings profiled is not a good idea while traveling with a criminal).

This turns out to be a really good idea because the really bad case Emily called about isn’t new and this time it’s got Dean’s face plastered all over it.

He swipes through the crime scene photos and barely listens to Prentiss and Garcia going over the details on the other side of the phone. He already knows the details, the who and when and where and how. And Sam knows the why, the real why, not the theories that his teammates were throwing out.

Who: two men, two women, pretending to be FBI agents and caught on camera in the local police station and by the gas station down the road from the crime scene. One confirmed by facial recognition to be the missing Jimmy Novak, father of Claire Novak. The other male most likely Dean Winchester, oldest son of John Winchester. The identities of the two women were yet to be determined by the rest of the BAU. 

When: The footage put the slaughter at three days ago and the TOD of the victims more or less agreed.

Where: a condemned house in Mayfield, Tenassee.

How: decapitation, all sixteen of them.

And the why, which Sam alone knew: because vampires would brush off almost everything else and if even one of them got away, there was no telling how many more innocent humans would have died.

Sam resists the urge to jump over to the other bed and strangle his brother, instead asking Prentiss if she wanted him to meet them in Ohio to go over the crime scene.

“No, you enjoy your family time.” She says. “I just wanted you to be up to date on this. I’m sorry to interrupt. I promise we’ll call with any breakthroughs.”

They say their goodbyes and hang up. Sam carefully places his FBI issue tablet and the phone he used for everything that didn’t involve hunting actual monsters and the end of the world in his bag so they won’t break and then wakes up his brother by throwing everything in reach at Dean.

“Put the gun down, we got problems.”

Dean complies and rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. “Don’t we always?”

Sam answers that by handing his brother his tablet and letting Dean go over the gathered evidence himself. After several minutes Dean looks up. “Well shit.”

“Yep.”

“I’m guessing Vegas is cancelled then?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll pack, you get breakfast, leave in twenty?”

“Sounds good.”

The first hour of their new route would be silent if not for the amount of time they spend on the phone. They call Charlie and Eileen, confirming Sam’s guess of who else Dean had taken to clean out that nest, and advise them to ditch the truck they’d been using and to meet them at the Bunker. They arrange for Ash to get them new license plates for the Impala because Dean would never ditch his Baby. Sam calls his team and gets an update on the case, dodging Tara’s questions about the stress he can’t hide in his voice. Finally they call Cas at the Bunker and tell the angel there’s been a slight change of plans.

The second hour is mostly filled with Sam yelling at his brother for being stupid enought to get caught on camera and for not covering up the crime scene better.

“Sixteen vics and four unsubs, connected to at least two other people, spanning several states, Dean! You guys just rocketed to the top of the Most Wanted list. Honestly I’m surprised the bodies weren't found the first day. And in broad daylight too.”

Dean sighs, “You know that’s the best time to take out vampires Sam, when they’re sleepy. Would you rather we went in at midnight when they’re at their most alert?”

“ _I_ know that, but I can’t call up the BAU and say ‘actually in this case, attacking in the middle of the day does not point towards them being devolving _or_ overly self assured, it says they carefully planned their assault’ because that makes no sense!”

They argue back and forth, throwing out bitter words and curses they only half mean. Because they’re brothers first and that’s what made them such an effective team.

Yelling is how they work things out best, and by the time they walk into the Bunker they’re clear headed and have a plan again.

___

The coroner’s office was a bit overwhelmed, to say the least. Less than a quarter of the autopsies are done when Emily sends Rossi and Tara over to talk with the ME and see the bodies for themselves.

Twenty four hours since they’d been discovered and only one had been identified. Ruth Mayam who’d run away from her home in Wyoming three years before. Garcia was trying to track down her parents now but they had disappeared not long after Ruth’s school had reported her missing. 

At twenty she was the second youngest of the sixteen. There was a male who looked around eighteen, and the oldest a woman in her fifties. 

“So, all of them were decapitated, but all of the heads were recovered. That’s unusual.” Tara says while they wait for the ME to finish the autopsy she was currently performing. 

“I agree. Decapitation is not easy but the four unsubs chose to kill every one of their victims like this.” Rossi pulls out his phone, pulling up the crime scene pictures again. The bodies were scattered throughout the abandoned house but none of the heads had been moved from where they’d fallen. “We’re assuming because of the Dean Winchester link that they have similar delusions to Caleb. They likely didn’t see these people as human.”

Tara catches onto his train of thought. “So they didn’t cut their heads off because that’s how they prefer to kill, but because that’s what was necessary to kill these so called monsters.”

“Caleb’s journal described the different ways to kill different monsters. Salting and then burning bodies to get rid of ghosts, silver for werewolves, stuff like that.” Rossi closes the crime scene photos and pulls up the call dial. “I’ll ask Reid if there’s any mention of things that need to be decapitated to stay dead in the journal.”

Their boy genius doesn't have to check. “Vampires.” he says without hesitation.

“Vampires?”

“Yeah. There are ten entries, or cases, in Caleb’s journal where he killed via decapitation. Three of those were what Caleb saw as vampires, though his description of them were a lot different than mainstream vampires. Sunlight simply made them sleepy and things like stakes and crosses were useless. In order to kill them for real they had to be decapitated. Have the ME check for needle marks and forgin blood.”

“Okay you’ve lost me kid.” admits Tara.

Reid explains, “October 28, 1776, Caleb wrote that injecting vampires with the blood of a dead man slowed them down.”

Sure enough, once the ME is free and they can examine the bodies, they find that over half of them have an injection sight on their necks or arms. One even has a needle that broke from the syringe still stuck in her arm.

“No hesitation marks here,” Rossi notes. “Doctor Menson, were all the cuts as clean as this one?”

“For the most part, yes. A single swing separating head from body was the COD for the majority, a few required two or three cuts. My guess is that the one who dealt those was not as strong as the others.” 

“Probably one of the females.” Rossi makes note of that in his notebook. “Can you tell us what they used.”

Dr Manson shakes her head. “Not for sure, but my best guess is machetes for all of them. Well cared for ones at that, cleaned and sharpened often.”

Not surprising. John Winchester had been a Marine and if he’d trained Dean, who had in turn taught Novak and the women, he’d probably drilled into his head the importance of keeping weapons in their best shape.

“Thank you for your time Doctor.” Tara says as they leave. “Please call if you find anything else.”

“I will. And Agents,” the woman’s expression is grim, the face of a person who hates their job a little right now but will do it anyway because it needs to be done. “Do me a favor and catch these bastards.”

Rossi is all too familiar with the feeling. “Trust me, we intend to.”

___

Sam gets back to DC the day after the rest of the team. 

For nearly two weeks the BAU had lingered in Tennessee, going over evidence and posing theory after theory. But even after exhausting every lead they had nothing, and were ordered back home. There were always more cases, more killers to be caught.

Their exhaustion is obvious, even from a far and it sparks a bit of guilt in Sam, They’d been slaving over the smallest detail of the slaughter while Sam played cards and watched movies with the people they hunted, he’d prepared a PowerPoint presentation on how to _avoid_ his team.

He gets five feet from the elevator before he’s aggressively embraced by Penelope Garcia.

“Oh my goodness, I missed you so much. I missed everyone so much but especially you since you only called the once. Not that I blame you because you were with your brother but _still.”_ She babbles, letting him go only to drag him towards the team’s group of desks. “Guys, Sam is back!”

The rest of the team greets him less enthusiastically, but that’s not surprising.

“How was my hometown?” Reid asks and for a confusing second Sam panics because what were the odds his friend from the FBI was from the same area the Men of Letters had built their Bunker in?

Then Sam remembers the original plans for his time off and makes a note to swing by the store and get more coffee as soon as possible. He’s obviously useless without it. “I wouldn't know. Vegas didn’t happen, there was a bit of a...family emergency. Everything is fine,” he assures them, “And I ended up having a better time in Kansas than I probably would have in Las Vegas anyway.”

As a kid, Sam had hated Hunting. The first opportunity he’d gotten, he’d run off to Stanford and hadn’t intended on ever looking back. Getting back in to stop Yellow Eyes after John had died had been a temporary situation, and if he spent his breaks with Dean killing evil things, that was just to spend time with his big brother.

It hadn’t been until after graduating law school that Sam had been honest with himself; he didn’t hate Hunting. He _couldn't_ hate Hunting. It was who he was. 

What Sam had hated as a kid was his father’s version of Hunting. Always being the new kid at school, and believing himself a freak. Being bossed around and never thanked.

Spending two weeks tracking down lore in the Bunker’s library for people who needed it, advising on the best way to track and kill a Wendigo, manning the phones to pretend to be anyone that was needed, and finding possible cases online and passing them to Hunters in the area was nothing like how he’d grown up. Sam didn’t mind it at all. 

Especially since it had been interspaced with movie marathons with Dean, finally being able to meet up with his bookclub in person for the first time in a year (Charlie and Elileen, like Dean, were lying low in the Bunker and Kevin had an angel specially tasked with guarding the young prophet who had easily transported him to the Bunker for the weekend before he had to go back to college), helping improve the training course in the lower, less used levels of the Bunker by adding features similar to the courses in Quantico, and spending hours in the kitchen with Benny.

(Sam’d had his doubts when Dean had returned from several months in Purgatory after being blasted there when he killed the Mother Of All with a vampire in tow. But Benny was one of the good guys, fangs of no, and Sam trusted him to watch Dean’s back. Also he was a _really_ good cook who made vegetarian lasagna better than anyone)

Of course he can’t tell his team a lot of that, so he mostly focuses on the game nights and other ordinary things. Rossi laughs when Sam tells him that his book club was going to read his latest book. _Sam_ laughs when Rossi cautions him about the books giving his civilian friends nightmares, playing it off as a cough. 

_How to explain that it would take a lot more than reading the graphic details of Tommy Yates’ crimes to freak out Kevin, Eileen, or Charlie out? No way, because then they’d all be arrested!_ There was that guilt again, and dread and worry.

All the negative feelings about the lie he was living get drowned out by embarrassment when Penelope asks “Was Gabriel there?”

“He spent a couple days in town. Spent a lot of time flirting with me.” Sam admits, fighting the heat in his cheeks. “Stop squealing, he also spent a lot of time flirting with Rowena, and Ketch when he dropped in. And Donna, and Jo, and even Charlie, who’s a lesbian. He flirts with a lot of people a lot of the time.”

They’re all looking at him knowingly, the damn profilers. “Even if Charlie was interested in guys she just started dating someone new, a mutual friend who also happens to be my ex girlfriend. I only learned this when I ran into them making out in a hallway.” It had actually been in the shooting range but that wasn’t something a normal house had so it had to be edited out.

Actually, there’s a lot about his stories that have to be edited. It’s almost a relief when Emily appears and, after welcoming him back, comundeers Penelope for looking over cases with her and reminds the rest of them about the paperwork they should probably be doing.

The BAU is similar to Hunting in a lot of ways, but the agency had its perks. Not being on the run from the law, a better paycheck, and a retirement package. But Hunting did have one thing going for it, and that’s the lack of paperwork.

Personally, Sam would take a ghoul over the pile of half done reports sitting on his desk any day.

___

“You take that back Samuel Singer, you take that back _right now._ ”

The raised voice is what gets Ried’s attention, making him detour on his way back to JJ with his newly filled glass. She’s fallen into conversation with Luke and Lisa anyway and won’t miss him for a few minutes yet.

The half shout came from the corner of the patio where Sam and Tara sit on couches. They’d been conversing calmly when Reid had ducked inside but now the female agent is leaning forward and gesturing aggravatedly.

Sam laughs and replies “It’s just my opinion.”

“Opinion on what?” Reid asks, sitting on the cushion next to Tara.

“Cars.” She says, still glaring daggers at Sam. “And how little Sam knows about good ones. Apparently.”

Their newest agent puts his hands up in surrender, “My brother has already told me multiple times how much I suck, I promise. He’s a classic car guy all the way, but me? I like bluetooth and GPS and not having a tape deck.”

“Tell your brother to call me.” She sways on her feet a bit when she stands and snatches up her wine glass, but manages. “I’m going to find someone more sensible to converse with.”

Reid and Sam watch as Tara marches off in Rossi’s direction in a mostly straight line with smiles on their faces. “Who knew cars were such a hot topic around here?” Sam asks, settling back into his seat. “How’s your night going Doctor?”

It’s as easy as always to fall into conversation with Sam. He hadn’t connected with a new agent this well since Alex, but since the first case they’d worked together there’s been an easy comradery between them.

Maybe because of Sam’s wealth of knowledge on random or obscure facts that nearly rivaled Reid’s own. Maybe because of their similar experiences in never really having a childhood and their father issues (not that Sam had told him they had those things in common, but it was evident in his actions sometimes).

Or maybe it was just nice having someone on the team who hadn’t known him before the whole ‘framed for murder and sent to prision thing’. Sam couldn’t always subconsciously be searching for the differences in Reid’s behavior since then because he didn’t know what Reid had been like _before_.

They (the team plus Will and Lisa) had come over to Rossi’s when they’d wrapped up at the BAU for dinner and drinks, and since JJ and Will’s sitter was free until midnight, they’d been planning to stick around for a while. Music had been argued over, a playlist had been dictated, and designated drivers had been picked out.

All those plans go downhill when Emily’s phone rings. Whoever it is on the other side makes her smile drop quick. The conversation about the class Reid was set to teach in a few days during his mandatory sabbatical pauses so they can both watch their commanding agent duck into Rossi’s living room.

She’s in there for fifteen minutes, twenty seven seconds. When she emerges any trace of the easy smile she’d been wearing is long gone, replaced by her stone cold professional mask.

“Bad news guys.” Emily says, and all their smiles disappear too. “But good news first. We’ll brief at Quantico and leave immediately after, but the ride to California will be long enough to get some Z’s in and sober up a bit.”

___

Garth had told Sam once, a long time ago, a story about a place in Alaska where you could go if your luck went bad. Sam was starting to think he should send Dean looking for it, because they could use some luck.

And even if there wasn’t anything there, maybe in Alaska his brother could _manage to not get caught on camera for longer than three weeks._

“This is from a camera outside the Bank of America in San Francisco, California. Last week police received an anonymous tip about a team of robbers casing it and have been monitoring the footage. Facial recognition did it’s job and they sent over the relevant footage as soon as they got a match.” Pretniss says, hitting play.

On the TV is an outdoor caffe that Sam recognizes from his college days. It was popular with the Stanford crowd and is mostly filled with twentysomethings sipping coffee and reading or working on laptops. The young crowd makes it so much easier to pick out Dean and Cas at one of the tables _right in line of sight of the camera._ His brother was officially slipping. 

Sam can only think of one reason Dean and Cas would be in that area of San Francisco, but it’s still a shock to see Kevin exit the caffe, still in his uniform, and take the seat opposite Dean. He’s carrying a tray with coffees for all three of them and a piece of pie for Dean.

The quality on the video isn’t the best but it’s very clear that the three of them know each other and that this is a prearranged meeting. The coffee they didn’t order, the way Dean claps Kevin on the shoulder in greeting that is his version of a hug. Rossi says as much.

“Do we know who this kid is?”

“Yes. He’s twenty four year old Kevin Tran, he’s a student at nearby Stanford and has worked at Jensen’s for two years.” Right, that was the name of the place. “There’s been no sign of Winchester or Novak but local PD is bringing the kid in for us to question.”

So Sam didn’t need to worry about Dean. Mrs Tran would take care of his brother for him when she found out he’d gotten her son dragged into an FBI investigation. 

They watch the rest of the footage. The meeting lasts thirty minutes, Kevin handing over a folder that they don’t know the contents of but Sam is willing to bet is a case of some kind. They chat, Cas disappears for a bit, Dean ruffles Kevin’s hair, Cas reappears, and the two leave. 

At least they hadn’t parked the Impala outside Jensen’s, so the car was safe for now. Since this had been earlier in the day they probably hadn’t gone far. Every law enforcement agent in the state would be on high alert, which wasn’t much of a problem with Cas’ wings.

But Kevin. The poor guy had never wanted to be a part of their world and he’d already lost so much because of his Prophet status. What would happen to him now?

___

This chair was slightly more comfortable than his desk chair and his head was pillowed on his hoodie instead of a pile of papers, so he’s not at his apartment. Kevin should probably be a bit more concerned, but he doesn't really remember the last time he’d gotten more than two consecutive hours of sleep, so whatever. 

Wherever he is, there’s no one yelling at him or poking him with knives, and he doesn't smell sulfur, so everything is probably fine. How long Kevin drifts in and out of consciousness, he’s not sure. He wakes at the opening of a door nearby and the smell of food, feeling better than he has in a while.

It’s the food that convinces Kevin to open his eyes for good, he’s _starving._

He’s in a small gray room with only a table, two chairs, a pane of glass that isn’t just a mirror, and a Fed.

The guy doesn't carry the same authority Dean does when he’s pretending to be FBI, and he’s not wearing a suit jacket, but he’s still very federal agent looking. Seeing him in the doorway with a coffee tray and bag of takeout food brings back everything that had happened last night.

The cops at his door, asking that he come with them. Pretending he’d left the oven on to get them to cross the devil’s trap under his mat and make sure they were actually cops, being escorted to the police station and told the FBI had some questions for him but that it might be a while. 

Unable to access his homework for the first time in years, Kevin had done what any college student would when faced with this situation; taken a nap.

The guy introduces himself as Dr Spencer Reid and gives him a coffee just like he normally takes it and his favorite vegan breakfast burrito from that place ten minutes from his first class of the day. They’d probably checked his credit card records, a fact that might have freaked Kevin out if he wasn’t used to zero boundaries after so many years with Team Winchester.

Kevin takes them both without complaint or question. 

“So, Kevin, do you know why you’re here?” Dr Reid asks when he’s halfway through his burrito.

They’d gone a bit overboard on the hot sauce this time. Still delicious though. “Not really.”

“You were taken into custody for reasons you don’t know and left in this room for several hours alone, yet haven’t lawyered up. Instead you took a nap.” 

There’s a question in his tone but not his words, so Kevin just shrugs in answer. “College.”

Dr Reid opens his mouth, closes it. Flips open the file he’d brought in and slides two pictures across the table to Kevin. “Do you know these two men?”

Dean and Cas look back at him from the table, though the one of Cas looks like a drivers license photo so it’s probably Jimmy Novak. Kevin had never seen him smile at anything except Netflix and Dean, especially not a camera. (All of the angels except Gabriel and Anna absolutely hated technology of all kinds and spent most of their non-stabby time scowling at various computers and phones.)

Kevin gets the feeling there’s not much of a point in lying, so he says “Yeah, I know them. Saw them yesterday actually.”

The agent obviously isn’t expecting such an honest answer out of him. “Are you aware that both Dean Winchester and Jimmy Novak are wanted in connection to the murder of sixteen people?”

Of course Kevin knew that. Three weeks ago they’d gathered everyone at the Bunker and Sam had given them the run down on how the BAU saw them and how to use this to their advantage.

_Don’t lie. Withhold names and locations that would endanger others, but don’t lie.Telling the truth means you don’t have to keep a story straight in your head and if you’ve been arrested, they already know enough. Do not incriminate yourself._

_Start from the beginning, and talk them through everything. Because they cannot accept that what you are saying is the complete truth but knowing that you don’t believe yourself to be lying, this is going to confuse the crap out of them and throw the investigation off._

Kevin does that. Dr Reid asks him how he met Dean and Cas, and Kevin tells him about the night he disappeared from his home in Neighbor, Michigan not because he was kidnapped or on drugs, but because he’d felt compelled to find the Word of God after he’d been awoken as a Prophet of the Lord.

The he backtracks and explains the thing about angels, their true forms and need of hosts to exist outside of Heaven, and the Winchesster brothers’ status as the true hosts of Michael and Lucifer.

The agent across from him tries to hide his expression, but Kevin can tell he’s getting increasingly concerned for Kevin with each word. It’s freeing, somehow, and hilarious. 

Kevin stops long enough for the agent to refill his coffee, and probably confer with the other agents while outside the room, before launching into the story of the collusion between Heaven and Hell to move up the timeline of the Apocalypse and how that plan had been foiled by A. the angel Castiel discovering his superiors' plans and convincing Jimmy Novak to be his host so that he could warn the Winchesters and B. the long disappeared, believed by some to be dead, archangel Gabriel (who the Winchesters had actually run into before and tried to kill) returning and killing Lilith before the first 65 Seals to Lucifer’s cage could be broken, effectively putting the Apocalypse on indefinite hold.

What Kevin does not mention is that all of this was done during summers when Sam wasn’t at college or during holiday breaks. They didn’t need to know that Sam had also attended Stanford because that was just one thing that could possibly link Sam Winchester to the BAU’s very own Sam Singer.

He also refrains from mentioning the bloody details of the back and fourth power grabs in Hell between those demons still loyal to Lucifer and those who, like Crowley, believed the Morningstar would kill them after all of humanity. And since he himself doesn't understand the current state of Heaven and the stance of the angels (most remained loyal to Heaven, a not insignificant number had deserted to fight under Gabriel and Castiel for the good of humanity and desire for free will, and some had just straight up deserted) Kevin avoids that topic all together.

Both the agent and the prophet/college student are on their third cups of coffee and have just finished a late lunch when Dr Reid asks about the last thing Kevin wanted to talk about. The second missing persons report ever filed on him, after he’d failed to show up to a whole week of classes his Sophomore year here.

Dr Reid (you can just call me Reid, or Spencer, if you want) lays out his medical file and gently asks if his disappearance from his dorm room where there were obvious signs of a struggle and three week absence that ended with him being found wandering along the side of a road in Idaho malnourished and missing a finger had anything to do with him being a Prophet.

“Maybe a little bit. But Abbadon didn’t want me to translate a tablet for her or try to use me as a direct link to God. She just wanted information about the Winchesters and their plans and saw me as the easiest target, even with two angels as my body guards.” Kevin drops his gaze, no longer able to meet Reid’s eyes. “Hester died that night, trying to protect me, and Inias barely survived. I barely got out with my life but Abbadon is still out there and will always haunt my dreams. Even if they rescued me, I’ll always carry those weeks with me, and I’ll never be the person I was before.”

They take a fifteen minute break after that story, because they’re both a bit shaken up. An Agent Alvez escorts him to the bathroom while Reid disappears to presumably talk to his superariors again. Kevin is allowed a walk around the police station to stretch his legs before being returned to the interview room.

This time Reid gives him water instead of coffee. “You mentioned angelic body guards last time. You want to tell me more about that?”

“Um, sure.” Kevin had been expecting questions about the fugitives he’d admitted to being friends with, not that. “I’m told that traditionally Prophets are guarded by an archangel but...there’s nothing really traditional about all of this. When I first appeared Hester and Inias, two of the angels loyal to humanity, were appointed by guards. Like I said, Hester died when Abbadon and her demons abducted me, but Inias returned to his position once I’d been rescued and he’d healed up.”

“So Inias is your guardian angel?”

“Yeah. He’s great. Also has been standing in that corner over there this whole time.” Kevin nods over Reid’s left shoulder. “If you or the cops had threatened me physically in any way he would have smited you in a heartbeat. Normally Inias keeps invisible to everyone but me, and sometimes makes it so even I can’t see him to give me some feeling of privacy, but if I told him to, he’d allow you to see him as well. But I won’t because we need you to think we’re actually crazy.” 

Reid, with an impressive lack of judgement, asks “You had no problem _telling_ me the truth, why not show me the truth?”

“Because telling the truth is the very last resort, always. Once you know you can never unknow, and it ruins people's lives. The whole world thinking us crazy, heck being _hunted by the FBI,_ that’s worth it in the eyes of most Hunters if it means you normal people get to go home at night and not be afraid of what might be under your bed or around the corner.” 

Before the agent can come up with a response to that, the door opens and a blond woman who was probably also with the FBI sticks her head in and says “Spence, you need to see this.”

___

Sam called Dean on the plane to California, tucked into the too small bathroom and praying no one came near the door since it was far too thin to completely mask his whispered conversation with his brother.

By the time Reid steps into the interrogation room to talk to Kevin, the milk run case the prophet had sent them on was wrapped (a single ghoul who’d made the news for killing a couple of kids who’d decided to party in a graveyard) and Dean and Cas were already on their way back to Kansas and able to avoid law enforcement thanks to Sam’s heads up.

While Sam and JJ look over Kevin’s past, Luke and Tara head over to Kevin’s apartment. They come back with two computer's and a cell phone that hadn’t been in Kevin’s pockets when he’d been escorted to the police station (not really arrested) that Sam recognizes as the one he used for Hunter business.

It contained the numbers for everyone affiliated with them as well as the locations of various safe houses. One of which was Sam’s apartment. A simple text to Ash and it’s remotely wiped thoroughly enough not even the great Penelope Garcia can salvage anything from it. 

The same can not be said for the second laptop, the one that didn’t contain school projects. The combined skills of Ash and Charlie, as well as some updates from Kevin himself mean that most of it is encrypted to hell and back, but Garica still manages to pull the most recently accessed things.

That included photos of the demon and angel tablets and Kevins’ translations of them as well as his personal notes on them (not a big deal since they’d already found paper copies of all of those in a box under his bed) and more damningly, a series of messages between Kevin and a person with the user name AlexAnnieAlexisAnn.

“I’ve dealt with my share of cults in the past, but none this...strange.” Rossi says. “None that made fun of themselves or their leader this much.” 

Not that Kevin and Alex had been making fun of Dean, but they certainly didn’t speak of him with the same reverence that most cult members treated their leaders with. 

“You know, the more I hear, the less I think this is a cult. At least in the traditional sense. The way Kevin talked about the organization to me, the way he and this person talk about it, and even the name.” Reid gentues to the whiteboard. “Coalition Against The End. Coalition implies a group of people that are working together on a temporary basis, towards a common goal.”

“Like angels, demons, and monster hunters working together to prevent the Biblical apocalypse.” Sam says. “So we’re dealing with three cults, who have banded together? Lead by Dean Winchester who doesn't fall into the traditional profile of a cult leader, and who’s right hand is a man who believes himself to be an angel?”

“Maybe we need to take a step back on this.” Tara advises. “We’re being overwhelmed with information that we need to back up with facts. Kevin Tran is delusional, we know that because of the ‘angel’ watching over him that isn’t really there. That calls into question the reliability of everything else he gave us.”

“But the missing finger, and his story of being rescued by...Let’s call it CATE, because Coalition Against The End is too long to say every time. The trauma was real. And the amount of detail he was able to give me while being purposefully vague… There’s some truth to what he’s seen. Our job is to figure out where the truth ends and the delusions begin.” Reid says.

Sam helps best he can without actually helping. He’s the one to bring up the body of a woman who’d disappeared suddenly years ago from the law firm where she worked, who was found dead the day after Kevin Tran was abducted. He recognizes Hester from the few times they’d met, and suggests this woman might be connected to the angel Kevin had mentioned dying for him.

They have Garcia dig into it, and she turns up reports from the woman’s sister that are similar to Amelia Novak’s accounts of her hunsbands last days before he disappeared. She’d been hearing Hester talking to her as Cas had talked to Jimmy, but since the FBI didn’t believe in angels, they assumed the two had suffered similar mental breaks.

JJ taps her pen against her mouth and sighs. “Maybe they were targeted, drugged and brainwashed. This doesn't fit Winchester’s profile as a vigilante killer, but it could be an associate of his.”

“Or this Michael, who believes he _is_ the archangel and is making himself followers who then defected and joined CATE.” Luke suggests, and on any other case Sam would say they’re grasping at straws. 

They were so _close._ They had everything but didn’t know it, couldn’t accept it. Seeing his friends so confused and distressed, Sam wants to tell them the truth more than he’s wanted to tell anyone. 

But like Kevin had said, just because it would be easy to prove the truth didn’t mean they should. And if the price they paid for being able to live their already messy and at times awful life was that this bothered them forever, then so be it.

___

Kevin Tran walks out of the police station exactly forty eight hours after he walked in. He’d spend over twelve of those hours sleeping and the rest complicating an already confusing investigation. And while the BAU believed him delusional they could not prove that he’d committed any crimes. They could do nothing but watch him leave, all seven of them concerned for him.

To get to the door, he walks past them, but doesn’t look at them once. Not even the tallest, who cared more than his teammates but for entirely different reasons than them.

He goes home to his apartment, which is a bit emptier now than it had been before. The next day a pair of cops will return all of his stuff, eyeing him wearily the whole time. As if he was a threat at all.

One will linger in the doorway, thinking about the papers depicting ancient symbols and rituals that the unknowing might assume were Satanic. He’ll think a few dark thoughts about the kid and how people might be safer with him locked up. 

But before he can do anything, the cop will find himself stumbling forward as if pushed by an invisible hand, the door slamming shut behind him.

A day after Kevin Tran is released, Dean Winchester and the one who calls himself Castiel will still not turn up in California despite Kevin telling the FBI exactly where they were headed. 

The Behavior Analysis Unit stays for as long as they can, but will board their plane back to Virginia with more questions than answers. The ride back will be quieter than most, all of them lost in their own heads.

Dr Reid and the Agent known as Sam Singer will sit across from each other in the back and stare absentmindedly out the window before eventually drifting off. 

The doctor will dream of crime scene photos, the matchbook laying next to the body of a decapitated man, the folded receipt tucked between the pages of notes on the process of closing the gates of Hell. The same logo on both of them, the same name. _Harvelle’s Roadhouse._

Singer dreams of walls closing in on him and a clock counting down the minutes until everything falls apart. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since...I don't even know. The summer. I started writing it once I ran out of already written crossovers in the middle of my Criminal Minds binge and watching s15 of Supernatural. 
> 
> It was originally supposed to be one long part but that wasn't working. Eventually there will be (at least) two more parts.
> 
> My Tumblr is highladyofgothamcity if you want to drop by there and chat, or in the comments here. It means so much to see what others think and it encourages me to write more!
> 
> Next up: Reid takes a side quest to Nebraska and meets some interesting people.


End file.
